The Lady of the Rings
by kchan2982
Summary: Amyla is the sole survivor of her clan, and the men who killed her people plan to sell her in Bree. Just when she thinks all is lost, she is placed in the hands of a man who will take her on an epic adventure to find herself and save the world! not tom b.
1. Amyla

Warning! Rated PG-13 for adult situations (and don't worry "MOM" everybody keeps their clothes on).  
  
And as for my friends who have already read this, please reread it. I added A LOT!  
  
Chapter one: Amyla  
  
A New Life  
  
She was hungry and tired. The bonds on her hands had cut deep into her wrists, and blood caked the back of her royal blue dress. The men who had ambushed her clan and left all but her dead, had not stopped all day, and had neglected to feed her since the day before. 'Is there no one in a league with mercy?' she pled to whatever god would hear her.  
  
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Finally, long after nightfall, they stopped in a clearing in the Old Forest, which they had been marching through for the last three days. It was a strange part of the forest she'd never been to, and she couldn't believe how lost and alone she felt. The leader of the group ordered tents to be put up, and fires to be built.  
  
"What of the girl, my Lord?" one of the men asked as he pointed and looked hungrily at her. She twitched at the thought of what must be going through his mind.  
  
"She is NOT to be touched. Leave her where she is. Build a fire by her so she won't freeze in the night." She was thoroughly relieved with the leader's reply, and even more so at the ringing authority in his voice that would make his men beg him to obey. The men, however, weren't so thrilled with the decision and began to sulk away once their prospect of having a bed warmer that night was shot down.  
  
"My Lord, how do we keep her from running off?" said another man in one last feeble attempt to get their point across that they wanted to have some fun with her.  
  
"Steak her bonds to the ground if you wish, but I will be watching her," he said firmly, guessing the man's secret meaning of his question. She silently thanked the gods for hearing her. "Oh, and bring us some food. She must be hungry..." he trailed off, catching her eye and looking deep inside her. It scared her that he could see so far into her, but she was proud and let his break the contact first.  
  
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Soon some men came with food and wood for a fire, and an extra steak from the tents to pin her chained hands to the ground, though just loose enough that she could lift her arms above her stomach when she sat down. The leader sat just out of reach with a pot of stew and some bread in his lap, and an empty bowl at his feet. He threw her a piece of bread, which she caught and ate quickly, due to her extreme hunger. As proud as she was, she wouldn't let her pride make her starve. She was still hungry and was about to ask for more, but he spoke just as she looked up to ask him. "Famished are we? I'll make you a deal." She was going to say that she didn't make deals with murderers, but she was in no position to get on his bad side. He picked up the bowl when she remained silent, and came closer. She took her first good look at him, and noticed that he was much younger than his men, which was an oddity in itself, but he was also much more hansom. 'But,' she reminded herself, 'he killed my people. That makes him my enemy.' "One spoonful of stew," he continued, ignoring that her initial look of surprise she had given him had just turned to a glare, and poured some stew into the crude bowl, using an old and worn wooden ladle, "For one honest answer to each of my questions." 'He's smart; I'll give him that,' she thought as she mentally cursed him for being smart enough to bribe her with food after starving her for two days.  
  
"I would shake on it, but my hands have been bound," she said bitterly.  
  
He grinned and stood up. "What is your name, my lady?" he asked in an obviously fake sweet toned voice. He was mocking her, giving her a false bit of courtesy after she insulted him. It was all she could do to stay her anger.  
  
"Amyla, daughter of Doin," she said through gritted teeth. She was extremely upset that he was able to manipulate her like this.  
  
"Well, Amyla," he said in the same sing song voice as he poured another spoonful into the bowl, "Do you know why you are here?"  
  
"Because you dragged me here." Her fury was welling up inside her, but at least she was getting stew for it.  
  
"Let me rephrase that, do you know why we did not kill you with the rest of your people?"  
  
"No." Another spoonful.  
  
"Do you know what town we are near?"  
  
"I never strayed from my clan before you slaughtered them. Besides, we don't keep maps, and we have never ventured into an actual town." His smile started to fade at her accusing words, but he added another helping of stew anyways.  
  
"One last question, then you may eat," he said as he crouched down to her level. "Are you a virgin?"  
  
Her blood ran chill at the question, and panicked thoughts ran through her head. She didn't know why he was asking, and it was scaring her to think of the reasons. Her face must have betrayed her thoughts because the man's grin slid back into place. She hesitated before whispering the answer. "Yes." She cursed him again for being so manipulative.  
  
"Eat," he said as he placed the bowl in front of her before standing up and walking away to a near by tent. She had lost her appetite and fell asleep, her food untouched.  
  
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She was awakened by the leader who, seeing she had not eaten, heated the stew and handed it to her once she sat up.  
  
"Diola lle," thank youshe said before she realized she had slipped into elvish. "I mean-"  
  
But he put his hand to her mouth to silence her. "Ta nae amin saesa," it was my pleasure he said and smiled. 'How can he be so kind and so evil at the same time?' she thought. "We will be leaving soon, so eat now. This will be your last meal with us." He turned on his heal and left her thoroughly confused as she began eating her stew.  
  
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The sun was high when they arrived at a town. 'This must have been the town he meant,' Amyla thought as they pushed her through the wooden gate surrounding the town. The old gatekeeper was talking to the leader as if they were old friends meeting after one had been gone away for a while. The grisly man gave her a toothy smile, despite the fact that he was missing quite a few. As she went by, she heard him say to the leader, "So she's the one you chose? Good choice, mate. She bound to ring in ohhh...." But his voice became drowned in the chaotic chatter and bustle of the townspeople and new comers. She was steered through the throng of the town, and was about to ask where they planned to take her, when she felt something hard hit her in the back of the head. "Nighty, night," was the last thing she heard as she blacked out beneath a swinging sign with a horse on it.  
  
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She woke to a loud cry "What is that noise?" she quietly asked herself. When she had finally opened her eyes, she realized she was being carried to what looked like an oversized box. The next thing she knew, she was being placed upon it. She then stood up and noticed that the leader was next to her, and a noisy crowd before her, but he spread his arms for silence from the people. When all was finally quiet, which was almost instantaneously, he shouted, "People of Bree, I bring to you a fair maiden, the daughter of the royal Doin of the Whitetree Clan! Any of you may be the first man to know this graceful virgin, if and only if, you bid the highest price! Who will have her?!" she stomach dropped and she thought she would be sick with panic. 'He's selling me! The arse is selling me as a slave!' her mind screamed and she turned around to jump off the stage and take off running. She made it about five feet before the other men grabbed her by the arms and dragged her back. Two of them had to join the leader on the stage to hold her in place, and she wouldn't stop thrashing until she felt a blade at her back. He leader tried to laugh off the hasty escape, and said, "Nice and feisty, isn't she?" making the crowd laugh with him and nod in agreement. She glared at him, again cursing him for his manipulative ways.  
  
The bidding started and her head wheeled with horror at what was happening. She frantically searched the crowd for a way out, or at the least, a man she wouldn't mind being sold to, even though she shuddered at the thought. The numbers continued to climb, and so did her fear. She finally singled out a pair of eyes belonging to a man in a black cloak. They were kind, and a fire burned in them, though it wasn't a flame of desire, but one of compassion. She let her eyes plead with his, until he bowed his head, and her heart sunk. She was about to search out another pair of eyes, but the man shouted and held up a small sack of what she assumed to be his means of pay. She gazed at him with utter relief, then looked to the leader, who still had a hand in mid air, and hope filled her heart. He slowly lowered it as the crowd went silent, and all heads turned towards the man amongst them. He started walking forward as if he knew he had already won the bidding, and the leader, as well as the townspeople, seemed to agree. Murmurs softly began to sound through the town, all of them whispering the same thing. Strider.  
  
The men holding her in place yanked her off the stage and onto the ground. The blade that was still at her back licked her skin, barely cutting it, but it showed what a clumsy oaf its barer was. She glared at him and he laughed. They led her off to a building and she recognized the sign above it. It was the one she'd seen before she had been knocked out. It read 'The Prancing Pony' around the saddled horse. She was led through the door, and was met by the strong odor of ale, smoke and sweat. It was much hotter inside, due to the amount of men inside, half of whom looked drunk, the others looking high. "What is this place?" Amyla asked in disgust as she was led to the center of the chaotic room.  
  
"Welcome!" said a merry man behind the counter in front of them, "Welcome! To the inn of the Prancing Pony! How may I help you? If you're looking for accommodation we've some nice rooms available-"  
  
"We're not looking for a room to stay in," said the man on her right. "We're looking for the Strider's room. He won the bidding this evening, and we are here to take his prize to his...accommodations."  
  
"Oh! Right, right. Yes, well, he is in the first room up those stairs to your left. Here's a key. Just be sure to return it once she's inside."  
  
Amyla glared at the innkeeper as he handed the men a key. "You trust far to easily, boy. I hope you learn from it one day."  
  
"Boy? Now look here young lady! I'm old enough to be your grandfather! Boy indeed!"  
  
"Heh," she laughed sarcastically, "Few walk this earth who are old enough to carry that title."  
  
"That's enough, wench. I don't have time to stand around while you argue with a drunken innkeeper. Let's go," said the man to her left as he roughly pulled her up the stairs after him.  
  
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	2. Strider

Okay people...I'm drained of any and all disclaimers, especially for lotr, so here you go. Don't own it. Don't sue.  
  
Also, my flippin email refuses to work. For some strange reason it won't let me type-at all. So yeah, I'll be responding to fanfic emails here (I've no idea how I'm gonna communicate with half my friends, but that's not your problem) but yeah, I'm a little-okay a lot- too lazy to go crawling to my dad for help just yet. Okay!  
  
First off, stormbringer. Um, I don't know how to say this, but hasn't your mother ever told you NOT to give your real name to strangers you meet on the Internet? How do you know I'm not some 40-year-old creep who's done time for rape and Internet fraud? And if you checked your emails closely, you'd see that I give people the name Leslee Denem. No, that's not my REAL name, but yeah, I'll respond to it. I don't want to sound antagonistic, or even like your mother, but I feel very strongly about protecting yourself. We writers have a thin veil keeping us from being exposed to the world, and I hate to see people cross it with stupid mistakes like giving people their name. I'd love to be your friend, but it would be kinda hard if you just stop writing, and then a few weeks later I get a flyer in the mail saying that you've been missing and are presumed dead. I'd be very sad for you. I don't use AIM, sadly, or I'd give it to you. I do, however, use MSN messenger, if you have that. It's the same as my email, so if you're ever on, drop me a line. Oh, and I might just be having a major brain fart, but who in the Lord's name is Kandy?  
  
Next, In The Depp End, it's good to see you back. You're one of the few names I've recognized in reviews to this story, and it's good to see a familiar face around here. Kinky, eh? Hehe (taps fingers together evilly) the plot thickens...there will be a twist! Not as bad as my Menla story, but a twist nonetheless.  
  
M.A.D. –congratulations, that is the shortest review I've ever gotten, but I appreciate the gesture. Thanks.  
  
Banana- I'm glad you like it. Like I said to In The Depp End, there is a twist, and a lot of surprises. Hehe...  
  
RivendellWriter- thanks, but who said she was an elf? (looks around frantically at her scattered pages) I know I didn't. A cliché? I don't even think I know what that is (kicks herself for having such a poor vocabulary) but yeah, Word says it's a line, or a walnut, neither of which makes any sense in your dialogue, so if you could dumb it down in another email (holy crap do I sound stupid, but oh well) I'd be much obliged.  
  
Sorry that took so long peoples, but here's chapter 2!  
  
Chapter two  
  
Strider  
  
The two men pushed Amyla through the door, muttering something that sounded like "not fair." They quickly cut her bindings and made for the door. She was glad to be rid of them once they left, but the echoing sound of the door slamming and the hollow turn of the key in the lock made her feel like they had just sentenced her to a fate worse than death. And it slowly came to her that they really had. For a moment, she felt like she and those men were allies, and they had just abandoned her. She felt a tear roll down her face, and she slowly started to shake as this horribly surreal fate finally focused into reality. She still hadn't accepted that her family was gone, and now it hit her anew, how bad everything was. The images of those men entering her tent late that night came flashing into her mind. They had dragged one of her relatives from her bed, and when she resisted, they slit her throat. Amyla had ducked out the back with one of the younger children, hoping to get him out. They had run, but hadn't made it far. They were found, and brought back to the camp. She pled for her family's lives, but the men had taken no notice of her. They slaughtered her people one by one, in front of her eyes. She alone had survived, and that was only because the men wanted to make a profit off of her.  
  
And that brought her back to where she was. In a darkened room, with nothing but a bed, two chairs under a table by the window, and a cold fireplace. She was all alone, with no one except the man who had just bought her. She was scared, not only of her future, but of the man as well. He had seemed kind, perhaps even loving, but she learned long ago that looks could be deceiving. He could be hash, bitter, cold, and ruthless. He had, after all, just bought another living person as a slave. That showed that he didn't have high morals, and very well could force her to do things against her will. From what she saw of him, he was certainly strong enough to pin her to the bed if she gave him the chance, and she knew she was in no condition to fight him. It was all up to him now; her fate, and spirit, lay in his hands. He could crush them both in one fell swoop, or he could be her foundation to build and grow on.  
  
As she contemplated her new life, she heard a key in the door. She froze as the doorknob turned and the man they called Strider entered the room, quickly locking it behind him. He glanced at her once while doing this, and his eyes were full of caution and suspicion. "Get on the bed," he said. His voice wasn't harsh, but it wasn't without command either, so she calmly walked over to the bed, hoping that her firm gait would fool him into over looking her shaking spirit inside. He had not moved from the door, but simply watched her as she moved to the bed from where he stood. "Lie down."  
  
She swallowed, though her mouth had long since gone dry. She did as she was told, and lay down, closing her eyes as her head hit the pillow. 'This is it,' she thought, knowing now what he expected of her. Her world was crashing in around her. Her mind was racing as she lay there, waiting for her doom. A sex toy. That was what she was about to become.  
  
She heard no movement, so she opened her eyes, only to find he had silently crossed the room and was now climbing onto the bed to join her. He sat for a moment on his knees, straddling hers, before lying down on top of her. She could feel his light shirt, linen dyed black, against her bare arms that she had locked at her sides. One of his hands went under her head, the other her waist. He wasn't harsh, so she let herself relax a little underneath him.  
  
She felt his hot lips against hers. It was a light kiss, so she leaned forward a bit, knowing he was holding back. He seemed to have sensed her, because he no longer held back. His tongue slid into her mouth, and within seconds his was dancing with hers. He abruptly drew back, and pinned her arms where they were. She instinctively tried to capture his lips again, but he tightened his grip on her when she moved to do so. She blushed at this, and even though she was a little disappointed that his mouth was just out of her reach, she was glad to see he was breathing just as hard as she was. She hadn't really expected her first kiss to be quite like that, but she found she was quickly falling for him, or at least she thought she was. She had never truly loved before, and had no idea if this new feeling in her loins was love or simply desire. "You need rest," he said, still unable to fully catch his breath. He got up and knelt down by the fireplace. He lit a fire and took a water skin and some fruit out of a bag she hadn't noticed before. "And food."  
  
"I'm not hungry or tired," she lied. She tried hard to suppress a yawn, but in the effort of doing so, her stomach growled.  
  
"You need not try and impress me, milady. I saw in your eyes that you haven't had proper rest since those men came upon you," she winced at this. She had temporarily forgot everything before this man, and the memories came flooding back to her for the second time that night. He came back to the bed, and she sat up as he handed her a goblet of water and a plate of fruit, "And I felt your stomach. It's been empty for quite sometime. My lady?" he hadn't noticed the glazed look in her eyes before now. A tear fell down her cheek, and he brushed it away, only to find another one sneaking down the other. She was obviously being shown something only her mind's eye could see now, and she seemed so out of reach that he found no harm in kissing her cheek to help dry her tears. At the touch of his lips, however, she came back to reality, and once he drew away, she buried her face in his chest. The plate and goblet fell unnoticed to the ground, and neither moved when the sound of the crash reached their ears. He held her, knowing what the men had done to her spirit. He silently cursed them for what they'd done to her, and held her tighter as she sobbed into his shirt. He didn't let go of her until she quieted and tried to sit back up. He wiped her tears and she did her best to calm herself. She wanted desperately to find something to talk about, so that the air wasn't so awkward.  
  
"Sir?" she whispered, afraid to speak any louder, lest her voice break.  
  
"Yes?" he asked kindly.  
  
"What is your name? I heard them call you strider, and I've been told of a ranger who goes by that name, but certainly your mother could not have given you that name?"  
  
"No, she did not," he sighed, "but many others have, and I find I respond more often to that name than any other."  
  
"You would have me call you that?" she asked curiously. She didn't understand why he wouldn't give her his true name.  
  
"I would have you call me friend, if nothing else."  
  
She blinked. "Friend? But- I- you- you- Friend?" she was now even more confused. What did he expect of her? She shook her head to clear her thoughts. "Well, Friend, thank you. You've done a lot for me, and even though I've only known you for an hour, I'm already deep in your debt."  
  
He shook his head and gave a quiet laugh. "No, you've already paid it. The fact that you are out of their hands and into mine is payment enough. Now eat, and rest," he said as he cleaned up the spilt food and water. He handed her the water skin this time, and some more fruit and dried meat. He made for the door once she had taken it, "I'll be back in a few hours." He left in such a hurry that he neglected to lock the door behind him. She wouldn't leave though. She was far too exhausted to do any thing but sleep. She quickly finished off the fruit and meat, and took some of the extra blankets to make herself a bed on the ground since she had never slept on a mattress before, and was more accustomed to the ground. The moment she laid down, she immediately fell asleep and dreamed.  
  
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Short, I know, but oh well. I hope it'll last you people. Tell me what you think! I can't read minds you know... 


	3. Frodo

Hehe...okay, Marpessa, whatever you say. Poser? I dunno about that, but sure, I can live with that. How dare I? Like this. Hehe, this is fun. I am a fan, no matter what you say classifies me as one or not. I love lotr, and guess what? You're judging me entire book by two chapters. Don't do that with my stories, thank you very much. I'm preparing for a twist, just like I said there would be one. All I can tell you is to trust me, and that I'll make every thing work out. Yes, Aragorn is OOC, I admit it, but you have to remember people, this is middle-earth we're talking about. Aragorn was raised like an elf, and elves have very different standards of kissing. I'll let you in on a little secret: he doesn't love Amyla. He loves Arwen. I'm telling you, it's gonna work out. I know it's hard, but trust the author. She knows what she's doing.  
  
Chapter three  
  
Frodo  
  
Amyla had fallen into a void, a dark endless sea of comfort. She simply floated there, enjoying the blankness of her mind. She often slept this way, telling herself that her troubles were made for the conscious world, not the one in her head. She did dream sometimes, but usually only during times of complete peace, when her mind was at rest before she drifted off to her void, so she would entertain herself for those quiet hours by herself.  
  
But her void was shattered as the door to her room burst open, and a boy stumbled in, followed closely by Strider. Neither seemed to notice her, so she stayed quiet and just watched. "What do you want?" asked the lad. He sounded terrified, and looked up at the man with caution flashing in his blue eyes. He had curly brown hair, and dirty clothes, but the oddest thing about him was his furry feet. That's when she realized what he truly was. A hobbit, and one from the Shire, probably of the place they called the Hobbiton, judging by his clothes. Some of the more adventuresome hobbits had come upon her clan some years back, and told them of their ways in exchange for supplies. Amyla had memorized everything they told her, and she often past the information to the young children she looked after when they cried for a story or two.  
  
"A little more caution from you. That is no trinket you carry."  
  
"I carry nothing," said the panicky hobbit.  
  
"Indeed," Strider said sarcastically. He began to put out the candles on the table, and glanced at Amyla, but otherwise ignored her presence. "I can avoid being seen if I wish, but to disappear entirely," he said as he turned back to the hobbit and took off his hood, "that is a rare gift."  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"Are you frightened?"  
  
"Y-yes."  
  
"Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you." He looked at the door and drew his sword just as three more hobbits barged in, fists ready for a fight.  
  
"Let 'im go, or I'll have you, Long shanks!" one of them yelled.  
  
Strider looked a little disappointed and put away his sword. "You have a stout heart, little hobbit, but that will not save you." He turned back to the first hobbit, "You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo. They are coming." Amyla was a little taken aback that he knew the hobbit's name, but decided now was the best time to make herself known.  
  
"Who is coming?" she asked. Every head in the room turned to her, and she blushed a little now that she realized how awkward it was to enter the conversation from she was sitting amongst her bedclothes on the floor. Strider closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip. Now the hobbits thought that the two had been sleeping together, and they both blushed even redder as the halflings' eyebrows disappeared beneath their hairlines. A few of the hobbits eyed each other, desperately trying to hide the smiles that were creeping onto their faces. Amyla could have died on the spot, but Strider continued as if nothing had happened and everything was quite normal.  
  
"Have you heard of Sauron's deadliest servants?"  
  
She blinked. "You mean...the Nine? The Nine are coming? No...they were destroyed-"  
  
"No, they weren't. And now they are after Frodo."  
  
"Why?" she asked, but she didn't need to. She fit the pieces together, though at first she didn't believe it, but then she felt it. It called to, calling her name. She looked wide-eyed at the one called Frodo, and could almost see it resting in his left side pocket on his vest. "The One Ring..." she whispered, finally understanding. He quickly put his hand over the pocket, and she looked him in the eye. He looked even more frightened than he had before. "You must be strong, Master Frodo, if you can carry such an evil burden." He relaxed a little as her words, but not totally. She shook her head, and looked back at Strider. "When are we leaving? How soon will they be here?"  
  
"We cannot run tonight. We will leave first thing it the morning."  
  
Frodo looked up at him. "We?"  
  
He looked down at the hobbit, and said firmly, "We." There was no question that everyone in the room would be leaving the next day as one group. "There are some things that we will need. I will see to them. Amyla, will you watch them?" She nodded, and he made for the door. This time, he did lock it behind him.  
  
Amyla stood, and made ready the bed. "You all must be tired, I suspect. A good night's rest will do you well." She turned to them, a motherly smile on her face. They all considerably relaxed, and two of them nodded and ran to the bed. She helped them up, since their legs were far from long enough to get them up on their own. "now I only know one of your names, and it's been a long time since I've been around any hobbits, so you'll have to help me out." The two in bed opened their mouths to answer, but the one standing next to Frodo spoke up first.  
  
"How do we know we can trust you?" he looked suspiciously at her, and her smile waned a little.  
  
"Well, why don't you get on the bed and ask me some questions? None of us are going anywhere, seeing as how Strider locked us in, and I don't have any weapons with me, so I can't really do you any harm. What do you say?" He glanced at Frodo, who glanced back and went over to the bed, so he followed dejectedly behind. She helped them both up, then sat at the end and waited for their questions.  
  
"What's your name again?" asked the one on the far left. "What did Strider call you?"  
  
"Amyla, though you may call me Amy if you wish. Do you know Strider well?"  
  
"Not as well as you, I'm sure," said the hobbit next to Frodo.  
  
"Oh, I would not be so quick to judge if I were you, my lad. I just arrived in this town midday today, and I only met Strider a few hours ago."  
  
"You two looked like you had...er..."  
  
"Sam!" cried Frodo.  
  
"Well it's true!" replied Sam matter-of-factly.  
  
"We haven't. Strider and I are friends, and apparently no more."  
  
"What do you mean, 'apparently'? Were you that woman everyone is talking about in the pub?"  
  
"Well, he told me to call him Strider or Friend, and what do you mean, that woman everyone is talking about? What have they been saying?"  
  
"They say a woman was just sold to an outsider, but some say that she was really an elf. At least that's what the owner was saying," said the hobbit to Sam's left.  
  
"Oh really? That boy needs to keep his nose out of other people's business. I'm not an elf, any one can see from my ears," she said, tucking her stray blonde hair behind her ears, "but I might as well be one, since I've lived as long as one."  
  
"S-so you were sold to him?"  
  
"In a sense, yes. He bought me out of the goodness of his heart so I wouldn't end up in the hands of someone who would seek to use me."  
  
"That was nice," said the one on the end.  
  
"Yes, it was," she said warmly. "Now, enough questions. I still don't know half your names."  
  
"I am Frodo Baggins, and this is Samwise Gamgee. Perigrin Took is my cousin, and his friend, Meriadoc Brandybuck," said Frodo, indicating each of them in turn. "We all hail from the Shire."  
  
"Well, little Shirelings, you all need your rest, so tuck yourselves in and go to sleep. Strider will be back any moment, and I'm sure he'll be cross if we are still awake." They all got settled in, the hobbits on the bed, and Amy on the floor. She had barely drifted off when she vaguely heard a key in the door.  
  
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There you have it! Chapter three! I hope y'all liked it, because that's probably all you're gonna get for about a week. I'll be in San Diego for EFY (a church thing) til about the fifth of July. Oh, and if you're wondering, here's a few pronunciations: Amyla—ah-ME-la, and Amy—AH-me (not AIM-ee). I hate it when my friends mispronounce my characters' names, so now you know, even if they still don't get it. Good night! 


End file.
